


if we ever drop, remember, we lost

by wegotogether



Category: Glee, inFAMOUS (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, InFamous AU, On the Run, Original Character(s), Post-Good Karma Ending (inFAMOUS)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wegotogether/pseuds/wegotogether
Summary: inFAMOUS AU set in the games universe.Santana and Brittany are conduits.--“Aren’t you afraid of being burnt?” Santana finally asked, looking down again.Brittany grinned this time, muttering a soft, “You’d never hurt me.”
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	if we ever drop, remember, we lost

**Author's Note:**

> no i will not be taking criticism for the power choices  
> I highly recommend the game series if you like action rpg's with pretty good character development
> 
> Rocky is an OC of mine
> 
> for clarification-  
> like Cole, Brittany is an electricity conduit. but gay  
> Santana is a fire conduit.
> 
> tumblr: https://cardiaceyes.tumblr.com/

**The Fall.**

_She fell._

Her legs bent beneath her as if she prepared to land knees first against the ground, an impossible height for any human being to survive. 

Over eight hundred feet from the top of the building to the streets below, where agents gathered with pointed weapons. Their bullets just _barely_ missing her out of pure panic for their lives. She could feel a few grazes form.

Her hands were wound back behind her head, fisted, as if she were going to pound her fists into the ground.

A sudden collected gasp could be heard throughout the crowd. 

Electricity, that gathered like lightning, followed her fists. Like she was a god almost, dragging the wrath of the heavens with pure will, her eyes glowed bright angry pink, the same as the electricity trailing after her. It was almost like her fists held strikes of lightning ready to be released.

She fell, hard and fast, the guttural yell releasing from her throat. It was then, the agents, grey and yellow uniforms tried to scatter. Trying to get out of the kill zone, they suspected she was forming. There wasn’t enough time.

Her knees and fists pounded into the street below her, the street itself breaking and cracking beneath her.

As she hit it, the impact sparked bright and hot. She couldn’t tell the radius that had been affected, she was at the center and the painful flash was too much for her to see through, but- she knew the electricity bloomed from every crack, dancing across the ground and vehicles- anything conductive or electric would be fried.

It was almost explosive, pushing cars away from her, rolling them over, and shattering windows.

As the flash settled, she watched the tail-end of her electric streaks fade _far_ from her. The plated armor on the agents laying across the ground continued to spark, as she pushed herself onto her feet exhaustedly.

Their uniforms had been melted through in places, and most smelled of burnt flesh. Dead. She _knew_ that would be the outcome, but she could tell others were just unconscious or trying to still crawl from her. A few even holding onto life.

She took a step towards one of the closest dead men, rolling him over. She eyed the logo on his uniform and felt herself tense.

_D.U.P._

It explained enough. Brittany sighed, picking the man’s helmet up, and decided not to linger anymore. More would show up. 

\--

**The Flames.**

The fire spread far, high, and it was unbelievably hot. 

The few people who had spotted it rushed to find whatever they could settle it down. Like it would spread and burn their precious sanctuary down.

The start of it had been an accident. Sparks too close to gasoline, and the newest member of the sanctuary had been stupid. He’d dumped the first thing he found, _oil_ and it had grown. He’d called for help then, and the head engineer- Zeke Dunbar, a large oaf of a man, not a conduit but one of the few spearheading the movement against the D.U.P. -had pulled him out by his ear cursing profanities.

“Jesus-” Zeke spat angrily, raising his hands as the fire threatened to take over the room, the extinguisher in his hands doing now useless, he rose his radio to his mouth, “Lopez! Get in here!”

A canister on the closest bench exploded, forcing Zeke to step back out into the hall. 

Raising his radio to his mouth to start an evacuation until they could get it under control, a flash caught his eye. His head turned to the right and he found Santana, freshly showered, in pajamas, and sprinting towards him. He let out a sigh of relief and put his radio back in his pocket.

He set his hands on his hips and stepped aside as she came to a stop in front of the workshop’s entrance. She looked at him questioningly until he waved her concern away.

She took a step into the room, thankful she’d had the foresight to throw a tank top on, and could feel the heat of the room. She didn’t flinch, however, in fact, it felt unnaturally comfortable. 

Slowly, though knowing she didn’t have _much_ time before it became too much to take in, raised her hand. Her fingers outstretched, grazing the closest flame. It stopped trying to spread away from her, and like she was a _magnet_ , the flame extended towards her hand.

She inhaled sharply as the flame touched her. She could feel its heat, as it seemed to cling to her- crawl into her skin, she spread her fingers and watched as more flames drew to her.

Like she was a sponge, she watched and _felt_ as the flames crawled up her arms a little ways past her elbow and began to soak beneath her skin. As they did, the flames turned _blue_ and some even spurting purple. Her body felt _hot_ and she felt antsy doing this, knowing she could only retain so much and would have to expel the excess.

The heat always made her anxious.

Her face began to heat, eyes glowing a fiery orange as she extended her other hand. More flames began to cling to that hand too, her arm receiving the same treatment as the other.

She let out a pained breath, knowing that even with half of the room’s flames now absorbed- this was _too much._ The heat was too much- she felt too hot.

Still, she stepped closer to the remaining flames. As she did, some began to orbit towards her feet, causing her to curl her toes and clench her jaw. She could hear movement outside of the room but didn’t look.

“Jesus- kid, look, that’s enough! We can get the rest!” 

She ignored Zeke, knowing very well they _couldn’t._ She took another step, drawing more fire to herself. She was breathing hard now, her mouth felt dry and she wanted to _scream._

“She won’t listen.”

The sound of humming caught Santana’s ear, but it was the pink bot of electricity soaring above her that caught her eye. Her head snapped up as it hit the large square canister directly above her, in the middle of the room.

She didn’t have time to react, all too quickly the bolt seemed to shake the canister before it fell at an angle away from its lid. Water came pouring out, directly onto the largest portion of the flames and Santana herself. 

Santana’s body tensed, shaking almost instantly. The sudden change in her body’s temperature felt like it was too much, she felt herself freezing despite the steam that seemed to roll off of her almost instantly. She clenched her fists and her teeth chattered as men and women came rushing in to stop the rest of the flames. 

Brittany rushed into the room, placing herself in front of Santana who swallowed thickly and looked up at her with wide eyes. Brittany felt terrible almost immediately.

She reached out, placing her hands on Santana’s arms, and frowned. She still felt _very_ warm to the touch, but, it looked like she was freezing. Brittany pulled her pink and black jacket off, throwing it around Santana before pulling her into a tight embrace. 

Santana slowly but sure relaxed, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend.

Zeke rubbed the back of his head but locked eyes with Brittany. He gave her a soft but understanding smile and motioned for them to leave. The rest of the clean-up could be done without them, they’d only ever done what was asked of them since showing up. 

They deserved the break.

\--

**The Touch.**

Brittany tossed the match. The metal barrel lit up, flames high, almost too hot to be near the moment it lit.

She stared at it for a moment, wondering if it’d go out, and when it died down to a steady fire she adjusted the copper wire around her shoulders and stepped back to the log nearby. As she did, she placed her hand on Santana’s shoulder who looked up at her tiredly for a moment before she motioned to the fire.

Santana sighed but offered a smile and stood up from the log approaching the fire. Brittany took her place and watched Santana as she unwound the thick wire from around herself, tossing it to the ground nearby.

She’d stolen it from a fallen, unused, telephone pole. It was conductive. She’d had it for a few months at least.

Santana stood near the barrel, too close for any normal person. She could feel the heat, she always could, it just- it didn’t bother her. It felt _hot_ but it never hurt. It was still hard to get used to, sometimes, even to remember.

With a sigh, she raised her hand, palm stretching out towards the fire.

Just like before, the flames seemed to snap to her, crawling up her arm and seeping into her skin. This time, however, she inhaled a sharp breath, and it was like a sudden feeling of being awake. Adrenaline. Energy. 

Her exhaustion from before seemed to be replaced by this sudden hot feeling to be in constant motion, almost like she’d never been tired before. Her body had been relatively drained from the water of the fire incident, but now her skin felt alive. There was a certain type of peacefulness that came with this.

Her head snapped to Brittany who was watching intently, leaning forward and smiling at her encouragingly.

Santana licked her lips and did something she’d never done. She leaned down, reaching into the barrel as the fire started to lessen in its flames, and cupped a handful of still-hot coals in her hands.

She felt flames flick against her face, but they seemed to- bend either away from her skin, to her hands, and grow hotter any time her breath blew across them.

She stood back up, pulling her face away, aware her eyes were glowing, and watched as the last of the flames, impossibly bent backward to meet the skin of her hands and seep in. The red hotness of the coals seemed to dim down impossible fast, as well, and she could feel her body pull the heat from them.

She dropped the coals in the barrel and leaned over it, her hands clutching the rim.

She looked back at Brittany and found a face full of concern.

Santana felt guilty, suddenly. While- recharging herself was albeit uncomfortable despite the peace, it wasn’t _anything_ like Brittany’s.

Where Santana could pull fire when _she_ wanted, unless her body needed it desperately, and she had moderate control over her body’s reaction to fire- Brittany didn’t. Brittany was like a sponge, if her body needed it, it would draw electricity in like bolts. Brittany had somewhat control, but most of the time...it happened.

Brittany recharging herself was nothing like Santana. It was violent, painful, and every time without fail she would scream for relief. It didn’t matter if Brittany felt stronger, unstoppable, after, it- hurt. Her body would shake, seize, act like she was being fatally electrocuted and she would do her best to move against the pain, the electricity, to establish some kind of control. It worked but it hurt that much more.

Brittany couldn’t sit in cars, any vehicle almost, and she couldn’t go into most stores. It was like a discharge almost, things would just go haywire or she’d drain them without meaning to.

Santana knew Brittany was stronger power-wise but didn’t feel like it. Brittany felt as if, though her power was unique and strong, it was in-all a weakness. Things she used to be able to do, she couldn’t anymore, and every invention Brittany was trying to put together at the moment was either for the group’s benefit or to somehow make her feel more normal.

Santana pushed herself away from the barrel, her eyes never leaving Brittany’s, and approached. 

Brittany smiled, leaning back when Santana was close enough to touch. Santana took in a deep breath, releasing it, as she placed herself in Brittany’s lap. Her arms wrapping around Brittany’s shoulder. Brittany’s hands slid around her waist comfortably, as she looked up.

Santana felt hot to the touch, but Brittany didn’t mind. 

She could feel the electricity in her body, her veins as it felt like, reacting to Santana. Vibrating her skin, almost, the pleasant hum of satisfaction to be _touching_ her.

Santana didn’t say anything, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something- but nothing came out. Instead, she licked her lips again. She inhaled sharply, out of surprise, as she felt Brittany’s bare hands against the skin of her back, beneath her shirt.

It was like something cold touching something hot. It didn’t feel bad, though, it felt- nice. It felt _better._ Everything felt better with Brittany, though.

“Aren’t you afraid of being burnt?” Santana finally asked, looking down again.

Brittany grinned this time, muttering a soft, “You’d never hurt me.”

And Santana kissed her. Hard. Wanting. 

Brittany returned it with the same fervor.

\--

**The Light.**

There wasn’t enough time to process what was happening. 

They were surrounded, they had been surrounded, police, D.U.P. surrounding them, the military even, caging them in like- like animals. Like dangerous predators with claws and teeth ready to tear them apart for no reason. Like they would either be taken in or shot and killed, but it didn’t matter _which_ came first.

Part of Santana wanted to yell out, tell them they only wanted to live. They weren’t dangerous, they were being forced to lash out in self-defense, they just wanted to _live_ in any place but a cage or a prison for existing. Why couldn’t they be allowed _that_?

The next second, it was like a sudden flood of oil and flames. Coating the feet of the men that had them cornered, the vehicles that blocked them in, and the heat- it was so hot and the flames were so _much_ that Santana could feel her skin begin to itch, overstimulated almost instantly.

People began to shout and cry out, trying their best to dodge the flames.

Santana didn’t look, but she could feel Brittany moving closer. Not as if she blamed or thought Santana was to blame, but like she partially wanted to protect her from the current danger. An almost funny thought.

Santana would survive. She knew how to expel excess power, but Brittany wasn’t fireproof. They needed to get out, run away.

Just as that thought occurred, it was like everyone remembered they were there, or rather most people did. 

“It’s her!” One of the men pointed to Santana shouting, “She’s doing this!”

“What?! No- I-”

“Look at her hands!” He shouted, and Santana looked, her hands grew red hot, flames slowly emerging, “God- her eyes! Kill her!”

Just as he raised his weapon, a brilliant- shine of the fire’s reflections just behind him lit up the world. Almost like a demonic painting, and before he could fire- something long, shiny, and pointed pierced his chest. Through his heart.

His fear-stricken eyes glanced down, a hand reaching up to try and touch it- but he fell dead. The _spear_ that had struck him was almost four feet long, and it’s appearance reminder her of a gem of some kind.

When she looked up, however, she was shocked at its owner.

There stood a person, sleeveless hoodie, jeans. Every bit of skin was replaced by jagged edges, and a _look_ so brilliant the only thing that she could think would best describe it was- _diamond._ It was hard to see, but Santana could make out features, like eyes, cheeks, muscles, lips even.

It was so confusing to look at, but at the same time almost entrancing. She could feel Brittany gasp, front pressed against her back and they both stared. The woman looked them over, but it was hard to tell what her expression was.

The person pulled her hood down, and her hair was almost the same way. Strands of what should have been impossible, diamond. Santana didn’t think it _was_ diamond, but that’s what it looked like. You could see through her, like a cut diamond, reflecting everything around her.

The orange of the fire danced around her, in her, and it was partially terrifying.

Santana opened her mouth, but before she could her attention shot to a bright pink and purple light behind the shoulder of the woman.

On instinct, Brittany pulled Santana to the ground, covering her with her body, ignoring her all too hot skin.

A streak of neon light, pink and purple, hot behind them. A moment later the ground shook and one of those vehicles blew, causing more than enough distraction for the three of them to be forgotten about.

Brittany’s head snapped up and found a woman in an olive green coat standing on top of one of the buildings. Neon lights danced around her arms, hands, and general body like fairies and moths to a flame. Steady. Like she was the sun and they were planets orbiting around her. 

Brittany watched as the woman pulled her hand back, neon lights gathering in her palm, and _tossed_ an orb of light. The orb of light landed far enough away from them that when it exploded like a grenade, but in violent streaks of light with this odd whirring sound- they were fine. A second later the woman whistled, and the- _diamond_ in front of them turned their head. 

The woman’s serious face suddenly shifted into a playful grin.

“Come on, rocky! Let’s go!” And the woman disappeared.

 _Rocky_ , turned back to Santana and Brittany who were still huddled. They let out a calm breath and extended both of their hands.

They spoke next, their voice gravelly and almost unreal, “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here, you’ll be safe I promise.”

And for some unspoken reason, they believed this person. 

They took the hands offered.

\--

**The Drive.**

Brittany leaned in, experimentally, _just enough_ to rest her arms against the truck’s back window seal and rest her chin against her arms. So far, it seemed, she could be _this_ far into a vehicle. Any further and the vehicle would probably go haywire.

Santana leaned, in the backseat, resting her head against Brittany’s arms. She’d tried to jump in the bed of the truck, but Brittany wouldn’t have any of it. She’d convinced Santana to just get in the back, it’d be fine until they had other options.

In the driver’s seat, was the neon woman- or _Fetch_ as she’d told them was her name. Her hair was long, mid-back but tied into a bun, and a dark dirty pink sort of color. Her olive green jacket was well worn, her tank top was a dark grey, a white skull on it blindfolded with an index finger pressed against its mouth. She was as white as Brittany

The diamond person- a _woman_ , Nift or Rocky, she didn’t seem to care which she was called, was in the front passenger seat, resting against the window with her arms crossed. There was definition like she worked out, but she was simply athletic. Her hair was a dark brown, her skin a light brown, neither had seen her eyes yet. Her sleeveless jacket was a dark grey which blue stripes. Her wrist had a black band around it.

There hadn’t been much information given, but they had been on the road for the better part of an hour. 

Fetch had told them, at least, that their group had been compromised. Zeke had saved who he could have and missed both of them, but they had to find a new place. They had to hunker down somewhere else.

Brittany was curious, however, why _they_ were saved. Spared. Rescued. Whatever your desired word was. She hadn’t asked, however, and she didn’t know if she wanted to. They had no reason to trust these new women but something told Brittany they _should._

That there was safety approaching even if for a second.

“So you’re like a noble gas?” Brittany asked suddenly. 

Fetch looked into the rearview mirror and gave Brittany a lopsided grin, amused.

“Nah exactly.”

Brittany blinked, suddenly recognizing the accent. _New Jersey?_

“It has a boiling point of four-hundred ten-point ninety-four degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Did you just call her hot?” Brittany blinked as Fetch laughed, and found Rocky’s light brown eyes staring at her confused. 

Santana chuckled, rolling her head to the side to lightly kiss Brittany’s arm next to her. Brittany smiled at her in return, before addressing Rocky.

“Santana’s hotter.”

Three things happened. Fetch laughed louder, Rocky laughed out of pure shock, and Santana choked on the air in shock. Like she didn’t _know,_ and she should have known because Brittany told her often.

It didn’t mean she believed it. Brittany’s heart ached a little at that thought.

Brittany moved her hand to try and pat Santana’s back but yanked it back the moment she felt the air shake. She’d forgotten how dangerous she was. She sighed out and slumped.

The air grew quiet, awkwardly so, even when Santana turned in her seat to kiss Brittany’s cheek softly. 

Rocky, again, was the first one to speak, as she shifted her body to look at them better earning a sharp hiss from Fetch who gave a half glare. Rocky didn’t seem affected and Fetch rolled her eyes, looking back at the road.

“So are the two of ya, gonna stick with your names or...do you want new names?”

Brittany blinked, uncertain, Santana did the same. They’d never really thought about _that._

Rocky grinned, “Rocky isn’t my name. Hate my first name. _Nift_ is my last name.”

Santana crossed her arms, “I- is that something people actually _do?_ ”

Rocky shrugged, “Sometimes. It depends but when you’re on the road like we are and you gotta adapt to a new lifestyle, sometimes it helps. Feels a little like freedom.”

“What was your birth name?” Brittany asked, curious now.

Rocky’s jaw locked for a moment, and she almost thought the woman wouldn’t answer. But she did.

“It was Sasha.”

It grew quiet again. 

There was contempt, apparently, for who Rocky used to be. Like there was this self-hatred for her _past_ but more contentment for who she was now. Santana partially wanted to know _how_ she was content with what she was now.

Their nature now was destruction or that’s what the world made them out to be. How could you be content or even okay with that?

Instead of asking, her mind wandered.

“Why did you save us and not help Zeke?” Brittany finally asked.

Santana let out a soft breath. She’d partially wondered.

Fetch, this time spoke.

“Zeke’s got experience, you two don’t.”

Santana watched Fetch, something felt _off._ Not truthful. And it _bothered_ her to no end. Fetch’s hands clutched the steering wheel tighter.

“I don’t like to be lied to,” Santana told her, voice not cold but it certainly wasn’t warm.

Fetch sighed. Sasha spoke for her.

“Look- it’s complicated but, we think with _your_ help, we can do a lot of good. We have a problem, a big one, and it’s hurting a lot of people. We won’t force you, but, if anything come with us. Rest for a night. Listen to us and then decide if you want to go or stay and help.”

It sounded like the truth. Brittany relented, nodding, but ultimately knew it was whatever Santana decided.

If Santana wanted to stay and help, she would too. If Santana wanted to leave, she would too. There was no place she wouldn’t follow Santana too. It was simple, for Brittany, in that way.

There was, however, another part of both of them that felt like this offer sounded a lot like hope. It felt a little like hope, anyway.

Neither answered verbally, but Fetch took the silence as an agreement.

“Thank you.” She muttered.

Rocky, however, turned to her and offered a small comforting smile in return.


End file.
